“Jesse, why are you acting like this isn't a big deal?” Rick asked. “We don't have a large history between us to draw from here—which was you're own choice, by the way—”

“God, you can't honestly believe I should have gone to that stupid courthouse wedding in the middle of midterms,” Jesse interrupted, his hand scraping through his hair. “Could you give me one tiny break, please?”

Rick continued. “I hope you're not always this dramatic, Jesse. You barge down the door in the night. You casually mention you dropped out of college.” He gestured a frustrated hand Jesse's way and said, “You look like a stoner, by the way.” He pulled a chair from under the dining table and sat down. “Well? What's the plan, Jesse? Sleep on my couch and wait for things to blow over? If you're really giving up on college you must have a damn good plan.”

“Yeah, okay. I'll admit it. Fuck, why not? I had already dropped out of college before the wedding. Could've gone, decided to smoke instead because I'm a stoner—Like you said.” Jesse didn't wait for a retort. He started down the stairs and mumbled, “Stop assuming I fucked up somehow.” Eventually, he heard the slow steps of Rick's retreat.

Jesse's room was not his room. It was an offensive caricature. It had been cleaned and organized, and his flags and posters had been taken down, leaving the walls beige and bare. His bed was not his bed. It was naked, its sheets and linens folded neatly atop. His shelves were unfamiliar as well—so few of his own belongings remained here in this room. His clothes, his books, his papers, his models—all of it was now five and a half hours away in a dreary room puddled with anguish in a town he didn't want to think of ever again. All that remained which offered any hint of his previous occupation of the room were the dancing leaves painted about the trim of the ceiling. A style reflected in the portrait he'd left behind.

Jesse collapsed to the floor in the dark and curled into himself on the manicured carpet, his cheek pressing into the plastic threads. Too much. He lay unmoving, alternating between feeling deeply sick in his stomach and feeling too overwhelmed to feel anything at all: just tracing the threads of the carpet and wondering what was next.



Jesse awoke to the happy sounds of welcomed relations upstairs—Grandma arriving for the big day. He remained fully dressed in jeans and hoodie, having left his duffel bag in the car. A bright, though gray, light shown through the small basement window above the TV. He uncrumpled himself from the creaky couch of the family room and decided it was time to leave.

He could hear them talking through the floorboards.